Page 11 of Heartless Vows

I struggle against rising hopelessness as my future spans out in front of me. Years of uncertainty and subjugation under yet another tyrannical ruler like my mother fill my thoughts with dark, lonely clouds, but I push them away and focus on what’s most important.

I’ll agree to anything—anything—if it keeps Tristan safe just a little longer. I’m so close to having everything we need to escape this horrible life, but if the time comes and I can’t stay under my parents’ roof to protect him, I’ll have to send my brother off on his own.

Nothing matters beyond protecting Tristan.

Not even this wickedly handsome, frustratingly brusque, tatted mafia prince who once saw me at my lowest and seems keen to hold it against me.

Despite my body’s reaction to his as he hauls me down the hall, I build a mental barrier between us and remind myself why we’re here.

Our parents wait in the dining room. They’ll ultimately plan every aspect of our lives until the day of our wedding, and even after then, their stipulations will no doubt rule our decisions.

My heart skips a beat as Giorgio flexes his fingers into my waist and pulls me tighter against his side.

What wouldn’t I do to have his strength? His powerful physique? His authority?

If it weren’t for his rudeness, I may have reacted better and made him an ally instead of a foe, but that code crumbled along with my preteen body when I fainted in front of him, so thelet’s-be-friendsprogram crashed and burned before I could even start laying the foundation.

I push down my frustration and focus on the trials ahead.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my brother safe, even if it means going toe-to-toe with Giorgio Vivaldi.

Chapter 4

Giorgio Vivaldi

Aurora Achilles fits perfectlyagainst my side. I long to feel her bare flesh pressed against mine as I watch her emerald eyes widen in shock and lower in delight as I build her pleasure to new heights. Visions of her naked and writhing in my sheets have me half hard in my trousers.

Which isn’t a good impression as I turn us into the dining room.

The calculating expressions on every face in the room clear away the heat simmering in my blood.

But maybe my lust isn’t such a bad thing. Showing my interest in her may buy me more time to find the culprit behind the attacks on my family. If my parents believe an heir is inevitable—and soon—they might loosen their grip on my immediate future and grant me the freedom to continue my mission.

I tease my fingertips along Aurora’s ribs and enjoy her startled inhale as my thumb brushes against the lower swell of her breast.

God, I want to explore every inch of her, tasting and teasing her from head to toe. I bet my hand would dwarf her pert little breast as her hard nipple pressed against my palm.

“I knew they’d be a perfect match,” my mother says in a conspiratorial stage whisper to Aurora’s mother.

Madona Achilles studies us with haughty eyes before smiling and leaning forward to respond to my mother.

“They’re getting along quite well, aren’t they? I’m sure we’re all quite pleased.”

I eye the places readied at the table and decide to play by my mother’s rules for the time being. I’d much rather have Aurora sitting beside me where I can touch her whenever I want, but with the upcoming conversation, I want her face in clear view so I can study her expressions.

She hesitates when I start around the table, but I don’t give her a choice to balk. Her stiff shoulders annoy the hell out of me, but they remind me of what’s at stake.

The soft sway of her hips teases me as nothing else ever has before.

I’ll enjoy breaking down her walls and molding her to my will. For now, I’ll focus on learning as much as I can about her.

When I remove my arm from around her and pull out her chair, she aims skeptical eyes up at me. I sigh and guide her into her seat with a loose grip on her elbow.

Her prim and proper pose as she perches on the edge of her seat awakens the beast within me. Feral hunger grips me as I imagine wrecking her with my teeth and tongue, so I scoot her chair closer to the table, appeasing the monster within me by ruining her faux propriety.

She grunts and grips the edge of the table as I force her deeper into the seat. Once I’m satisfied she’s suitably riled, I smirk down at her and stride around the table to my seat.

The blush on her cheeks highlights her doll-like features, but as our parents feel each other out with small talk, her face pales.

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